


Antisepticeye One Shots

by MiffyFollows



Category: Anti, Antisepticeye - Fandom, JSE, antiseptic - Fandom, jacksepticeye
Genre: oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 01:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13559982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiffyFollows/pseuds/MiffyFollows
Summary: I don’t really have the time to write a full fic of anything atm, so i thought smaller one-shots would be a better idea. Plus i love our glitchy boy and i love writing horror.One you enjoy :)(btw most of these are from what i’ve written on my tumblr)





	Antisepticeye One Shots

A/N- i wrote this when anti appeared in the detention series, in that break between detention and his appearance at PAX. The wait and ambiguity inspired me to write :)

Familiarity  
•  
“-We’ve not seen him in a while. Maybe it’s just a one off, like Detention was meant to be.”  
“I fuckin hope so.” I rub my eyes. It’s another restless night. I had been reading what people had to say for god knows how long. The little ‘4:08 am’ in the corner of the screen taunts me, i can practically hear Signé asking me to come to bed for the who knows what time this week. I just want to feel normal again. It’s so foreign to me to say i want to feel alone. Like no one is in the room with me.  
I close down tumblr. I’m just feeding him- it. Like coal to flames. Only it’s fear and attention being fed to the cataclysmic fire that burnt deep in my mind. I had to get out, my office felt too familiar even though i’ve barely been living here for just over a month.  
The air is crisp and cold, my skin pricks up as the harsh breeze bites at my flesh. Living by the sea is good and all but it has a chilling atmosphere in the dead of night. A phrase i think is a bit too ironic at the moment. I text robin for the hundredth time this week, making sure he’s okay, that he’s still fine with going along with this. It’s taking a toll on him, all this tip toeing around the truth, editing out dodgy bits recently. I feel so bad. He shouldn’t have to play along with his games. I’ve been thinking about letting him off, taking on the role of editing full time again, but it’s too late, too dangerous.  
The pebbles crunched under my feet as i walk down the shore. I painfully come to the realisation that i left the door unlocked. Fucks sake. My breathing becomes tight and i decide to just sit.  
Everything’s so, quiet, so dead. It’s just the ocean and i. But i feel as if something is wrong. I stare out into the abyss, and watch the waves crash against the land built out of stones and pebbles, it’s so violent, the way they smash onto the surface, the way it splutters and sprays the surrounding area with salty pellets, the way it drags anything unable to weigh itself down into the endless pit of the sea, it’s so powerful.  
Blood. That’s all i can see. That’s what I want to see. Thick red blood forming a foaming crest surrounding a nihility.  
Wait, what am i saying? It’s the ocean. Nothing else. Stop letting things get to your head, Jack.  
I feel a sting in my eyes. I wince and my hand snatches up to rub them, trying to ease the sharp pain. At first i think i’ve got a bit of that salt water in my eye. But this is different, it’s deep. The pain sits like an unwelcomed visitor in your home, making you feel uncomfortable and awkward Its stabbing me at the back of my eyeballs with tiny needles, it’s so dull yet so fucking potent. The unwelcomed visitor now seemed more like an intruder, a threat. I open them and try to make out my surroundings. “What the fuck?” My voice crack, my accent thick with fear. I look to the streets to try and find a source of help but there is nothing. Nothing but blurry street lamps, casting long shadows down the beach and road, long spindly monsters and shapes, sitting, waiting in the haunting orange glow. I hear something. A giggle? No, no, no. It must’ve just been my anxious shuffling moving the unstable, noisy ground below me and my anxiety mistaking it as something far worse.  
Then there’s silence. Even the ocean is on mute. The silence builds and then crescendos from the eerie nothingness after a record has finished playing into a ringing sound, like the old hum of muffled static on the TV i had when i was little, until it reaches an unbearable white noise. A cocktail of insufferable hissing. I turn, looking for an answer, looking for anything. But the sea, it’s seems so…inviting. I stand and hobble, tripping over my feet and my knees shake on my way to the void calling me. There is a logical part of my brain screaming at me to stop, that this could be him, that this is all fucking real and it’s because of him. Yet i refuse that belief. If i do he’ll just come back, he’ll get me, he’ll get someone else. I can’t let that happen. I just have to trust myself, that this is myself.  
The water eats away at my pale skin, i am paralysed with cold but i keep going. I keep going. I fucking just keep going. I can taste salt in the back of mouth, i can feel it running down my throat and irritating my lungs.  
But i feel weightless. I feel at home, this is okay, this is safe, this is what I want. What he wants- wait no. I suddenly become painfully aware of the absence of oxygen and the panic screaming of my lungs, demanding air. I swim and make it to the surface. Being welcomed by another sea. An ocean and it’s filled with tiny stars, or huge ones i guess. There’s a void but it’s so full. However, i begin to come to the conclusion that it just shows how small i am. How alone i am. That the only thing consoling me is dead balls of gas in the sky. And how they aren’t going to save me.  
“Yo̸u̡ ̛r͢eallỳ ͘n̶eed ţo̸ ̵s̢t͠o̸p l҉ook̷i̡n̛g ͝u̵p̕ a͝ĺl҉ ͠thę ̶t̵im̢e,̢ Se̢á͞n͏.” It’s a whisper but at the same time it’s a multilayered, distorted kackle coming from all directions, screaming at me. I start swimming, flailing, my soggy clothes and big boots being nothing but a burden on my body, i feel like i weigh a tonne. i don’t particularly know where i’m swimming to but i just hope it’s to somewhere safe. I think i start crying but it becomes hazy. I can feel it coming; the darkness. Maybe drowning doesn’t seem so bad. Maybe that’s what needs to happen, but i keep going. Paddling water like a dog, tired and barely hanging on.  
I wash up like a dead body on the shore, the stones are colder than i remember and water sprays the back of my head repeatedly and the cold liquid washes over my nose and mouth over and over again. There’s a strong tingling sensation attacking by neck. I cough and i cough. But i don’t stop. I begin chocking and hacking, i feel warmth inside of me and it rises until i vomit? It’s not vomit, i look down to the ground, and under the pale moonlight is blood. Its running down my chin. I stare at it. Blood. Like the waves. I can make that masterpiece. I can make it splash and splutter and i can come down with the power, smashing with it’s violence and i can drag whoever i want down into my void. I stand and i feel refreshed. I feel like i’ve waited a long time for this moment.  
There’s a sudden noise and my head shoots up. There’s a man, I can’t make much out of him in the dark and nor him can me. Good. I can practically smell the fear on him. “Hi mate, um, are you okay? I saw you lying on the beach. Is everything alright?” His voice shakes, maybe he’s intoxicated or just lost. I reach my hand into my jeans. Good boy, I think. I pull out the cool metal object from the pocket. I flick up the blade on the multi tool. He didnt even know he took it.  
There’s still a constant white noise in the back of my mind, only, in the back of my head there was a small voice, pleading, begging, screaming.  
I grin, looking up at the man before speaking.  
“̶̫̺̹̱̥ͫ̽͛̒͝Ẽ̵̴͕̔ͦ͑ͩv̴̙̟͉̈̉̒ͨ̔̅̿e̡̧̖̯̫̳̺͙̞͔̟ͪ̑̌̇̈́̓r̢̽̑̋̾̚͏̬̖y̴̠̘̞̺̲̤ͬ̽ͮͮͩ͞t̵̨̠̭̙̑ͩͮ̂̇̇͆͒̚h̥͍̲̰͔ͩ̀̆͌̈́ͅȉ̺͙͕̘̲ͥͧ̉ͫͬͩ͆͆͟͠͠ͅn̡̜̦ͥ̈ͦ̇͟͞g͙͕̫ͫ̆ͣ̈́ͩ͟'̹̜̻͓̻̥̺̀͐̋ͤ͘s̻̪̗̫̤ͪ͌ͣ̊ ͦͭ̐̾̅̏̐̈͂͠҉̘̪̙̯̯̯j̋ͥͤ̅ͩͯͬͫ̚҉̗̥̩̩̯̳͠u̢̫̭̞͕̖̥̙ͮ͝ṣ̨͔̬̬͉͓ͣ͛t̷̛̩̼͉̬̓̽ͭ̍̂̏̋̆ ̡̯͈̬̗̭̔ͥ͊͗̌̉f̫̹͇ͫͨ̀ͥ̆͝i̗͚͕̯͖͓̪̰̓͗ͧ̉͊̑̓̽ǹ̈́̾͌̉́͏̞̭̟̤͝ë͉͖͇̬͚̱͡ ̴ͮ͂͋͌҉̣ȁ̴͓̼̪̻̆ͥ̅ͤ͑͐͜ņ̯̝͖̣̘͙͂ͩ̈́ͤ̊͗͠d͓͕̠ͩͧ̀̃̊͜ ̢̳̤͚̻̓͆̔ͬ̆̊͞ḑ͇̱̙̤̾̽̍̚a̛̦̖̞̱̤̜̝̮ͤ́͒ͬn̷͈͎̱̝͍̻̗̻ͣ̊ͧͬ͋̐͡ḏ̢̺͙̟͓͂ͤͯ̊y̵̮̜͙̰̥̼͒̈̂̉ͩ̀.̦̞̜̺̳̘̥̼̆̇͛ͮͦͧͩ̋͡ͅ"̥ͬ͋̆̈́͟͝


End file.
